Six of Spades
by Quietly-Confident
Summary: Spades are not emotionally-open.  The Six of Spades signifies caution; holding back; or the keeping of certain emotions in reserve... Re-Upload. FangxVanille - FangxLight.


Six of Spades

_A/N_

_In cards, a Spade is a heart with a knife in it; a heart with a handle. It is considered the most volatile of all suits, representing cold, logical and detached individuals, inclined to internalise feelings. Spades are not emotionally-open. The Six of Spades signifies caution; holding back; or the keeping of certain emotions in reserve..._

_T for themes. _

_Disclaimer: FFXIII is property of SE; I own nothing._

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><p><em>I accept and collect on my body the memories of your devotion.<em>

It all started with a friend, a Focus and a fire. That's how it began.

I remember tellin' this _friend_ of mine as we sat by the cosy fire we'd built together in the fading light of day that I'd always believed in destiny. I gotta laugh at the memory now, considerin' how things have ended up. In the past I was so certain of my sunny future and now that the future's here, I want to be anywhere else. Where I am now, it's not nothin' like what I imagined my life to be...it's nothin' near what I was told to expect all those years ago.

_She's_ been like this for months, ever since I woke up; ever since I fluttered open my eyes to find her perfect body slumped over the lower half of my bed, head cushioned by her folded arms that brought extra warmth along the outside of my thigh through the sheets. Ever since I mustered the strength to ghost my fingertips down the side of her beautiful face, smiling weakly as my touch gently stirred her from her slumber and eased her into consciousness... ever since she sat up with a start and recoiled like the feeling of my skin against hers had burnt her there or something...

I guess she's always been like _this_ really, only now, I got the sense to realise that it ain't okay, that it ain't alright. I don't know how she manages to live with her denial but I know that I can't stand it no more.

She was right all along, after all...what we do, the choices we make...it's all up to us.

* * *

><p>We're in her car at the moment, on the way home from the club. I turned twenty-two today. Well, sort of, you know? The deception ain't somethin' I'm proud of, but I've had plenty time to get used to this formless lie that I'm tied to. The engine's purring softly as we stop at the traffic lights on a deserted street and not a word has passed between us for a good twenty minutes; you'd think the absence of conversation would be awkward, but it ain't...there's too many runaway thoughts screamin' through my mind at the moment for me to barely notice. When I sneak my sideways glance at her, she looks just like she always does: posture-perfect, calm and controlled; the only change I peg in her is the hue of her face as the lights cycle back to green. She's pretendin' that nothing's happened, like I don't even <em>know <em>how she's feeling right now. I'm beyond pissed with her, but this ain't the time to drag it all up.

That's why I'm starin' out the passenger side window of her car, jaw clenched, breathing in deep the hints of her perfume and upholstered leather that the inside of her zippy little ride smells of. I'm not sure at this point if she even knows I'm not talkin' to her; I haven't got a clue if she's noticed my body language: the way I've got my leg nearest her crossed over the other and how my arms are folded defensively across my chest; how I'm sittin' at an awkward angle in this seat _just _to face away from her, despite it being real uncomfortable, what with the seatbelt diggin' into my neck and all. Nah, I can't be sure, but she probably has – she's always been the one to notice daft little details that no one would even think to care for...

* * *

><p>"<em>Do you always do that?"<em>

"_Do what?"_

"That._"_

_I frowned at the vagueness of her line of questioning before sitting up a little, letting my elbows and forearms support the weight of my torso behind me. She was busy running her sharpening steel over her gunblade in long, smooth strokes, eyes trained on her purpose – not on me. I watched her through the flickering flames of the campfire for a moment; watched the control of her moments, the grace of each pass. The way she was cradling that Lionheart in her arm, pouring her attention and devotion over it so...so _lovingly_ ...I found it entrancing, captivating, more so than the friendly sparring match going on behind her between Snow and the Twins. It sounds so silly to admit to but so mesmerised I was by her hands at that point that I'd completely forgotten that she'd asked me anythin' at all._

"_Well?" she pressed, sounding more curious than impatient._

"_What exactly is it that I'm doing?" I asked, feeling childlike, confused, "I'm just lyin' here." Her movements never ceased, never slowed and neither did her eyes stray. Her expression remained as frozen as the hinterland behind us; fair and placid, despite the dance of wild shadows the fire threw across her face._

"_You're singing to yourself...though...I can't make out the words; not with you mumbling like that. They sound strange."_

_I felt kinda silly: first, for not realising that that's what she had meant and second, for not really being sure whether she was havin' a dig at me or not. I couldn't see Sunshine approvin' of my little sing-song somehow so I just shrugged my shoulders and tore my eyes away from that hypnotic display, focussing on the night sky above me instead. "Botherin' you is it? Alright, I'll stop."_

_That's when she paused; her fluid strokes stunted by a lack of momentum. Finally, she looked at me which was enough for me to return my attention to her; her brows furrowed above the bridge of her nose but _still_ I couldn't decipher her expression. "Actually," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as they wandered through the fire before returning to meet mine, "I find it relaxing. Though, it sounds...kind of sad."_

_I was really kind of surprised by the way Lightning said that, soundin' only a few shades shy of sentimental. Hell, the fact she'd been strainin' to listen to me at all over all that hoo-hah behind her was kinda knockin' me for six. Since when did she care for what I busied myself with anyway?_

"_Yeah, it is," I told her. "It's an old Pulsian lament...about loss and..." I hesitated, wonderin' if she'd laugh if I said it, but she was lookin' at me so earnestly with an expression that made me feel stronger than I really was after the beatin' I'd taken earlier that day; it was her eyes that gave me permission to proceed. "It's about loss and heartache," I said, faltering a little on the second word and fancyin' that neat little pile of bolders off to the side to be the most fascinating thing in Gran Pulse at that particular moment. I started messin' around with them to stop my hands from fidgeting as I continued._

"_Ma 's e 'n cluasag dhut a' ghaineamh, ma 's e leabaidh dhut an fheamainn, ò hì shiubhlainn leat..." I wasn't tryin' to be romantic or nothin', singin' to her like that. I was just nervous as hell and I didn't even know why; it wasn't even that I was shy about havin' an audience since I'd been singin' stuff like that since I was a kid. It was just ...I dunno; I guess I cared about the woman's opinion of me. I wanted her to know that there was somethin' a little more to us Pulsians than fancy talk and fightin'; I wanted her to know there was more than that to _me_. "If it's the sand that you use as your pillow, if the seaweed has become your bed...then I will go with you..."_

_A sweep of the eyes in her direction showed that I still held her attention; that only _I_ held her attention._

"_It's real old. One of the villagers wrote it after the bloke she loved sailed into a storm off the Oerban coast; the whole crew was lost, " I explained, attempting to re-arrange the heap of rocks, but making a right mess of it. After the entire mound crumbled underneath my hand because of my careless fiddlin', I glanced back up at her, all sheepish-like, wonderin' if she'd seen. I guess she had, but you wouldn't have known it with the way she was lookin' at me: there was such an intensity about the way she held me in her piercing regard – I swear my heart jumped so high I could feel it thud in my mouth; this was something new 'cause I'd memorised everything else about her. I wasn't quite sure what it meant, but...I knew that I liked it; I knew that from the very start._

"_Anyway...after she wrote it, she was so overcome with her grief that she couldn't go on. Her body was found down on the rocks in the sea...near where they'd found her lover. I dunno...it's pretty dumb, huh?" _

_She didn't respond to that ,not right away; she merely tilted her head back, observed the majestic sky and breathed in the mastic night air._

"_Why do you think it's dumb?" she asked quietly, her eyes fixed on the studded velvet above._

"_I dunno." I hadn't thought that far ahead. " Endin' yourself 'cause you miss someone? I guess I just can't imagine that level of caring... Can you?"_

_She lowered her head for a moment and I watched her delicate frown softening in the amber glow as she turned to countenance me, the ghost of a gentle smile haunting the curve of her lips. "Yeah, actually...I think I can."_

* * *

><p>I envy that control she's got, because if ever there was a time to switch off my feelings, it'd be now. Now's the perfect time, because Vanille's been looking at rings... talkin' about the future. The future...shit, I don't even have a solid understanding of the present no more, let alone how things should be progressin'. I blame her for that; for my confusion. I blame her for my shameful, disgusting thoughts...the ones that make me into a liar and a cheat.<p>

I think she just blames me for making her feel anything at all.

We never really discussed our relationship – me and Vanille, I mean. I know that when she came to me that night, not long after being woken up by the others; when she came to change the game that we'd been playing all these years, that I went along with it out of love. A chaste love. I don't need to explain how fucked up I feel making love to someone I think of as a sister; and you don't have to tell me how wrong it is to have to imagine she's someone else to be able to do that much. Since she places such a premium on my company and feelings, I know it'd break her heart if she even suspected that I feel the way I do about Light. That's why I show her the affection she deserves, but kill myself in increments each time that I give myself to her.

Sometimes, at night, when I'm holdin' her, I think she can feel it...I think she detects it in my uncommitted gestures; think she knows all the kisses I share with her are through open eyes. She ignores it though, maybe aware that that's all I can do to remind myself of reality in those moments – I desperately need some meaning I can memorise 'cause the kind I have for her is always slippin' my mind.

With Light, it's different, and it always has been. She and I have always been so..._something_. There's no words for it and that's what's special; so significant...this silence. It's an understanding that transcends this clumsy language we use to convey our thoughts...one we ain't never had to work on. It just is.

So why is it that I couldn't predict this outcome? Her _spiteful _civility and punishin' politeness. I don't know what it means, that her touches leave me this damned mystified. What is it that bothers her more: the knowledge that I squander the love I have for her on Vanille, or the memory of searing her lips with the taste of second place? Time had surely crystallised my wayward devotion, but I'd broken free from that semi-precious coma long ago.

I could be here for her now, if only she'd let me.

If only I could let myself...

I know that I'm trapped here, between loyalty and love. She knows it too and can't resist bein' so damn noble and doin' the right thing.

But she wants the wrong thing – and I think it frightens her. The notion of just _taking_ something she wants petrifies her, 'cause it means thinking of herself for a change; it means that her outlook on life has been wrong all these years – that _she's_ been wrong...for so long. She don't have tell me all this, I just know. Light can tell by the way she catches me lookin' at her with such _longing_ that it's a lesson I've already learnt.

Such excruciating erudition... but it's something that can't be unlearned. I know I'm a cynic when I say I won't recall all my wins, but I know with her that the toughest beats will forever haunt my mind – and heart.

* * *

><p>Because we're only about five minutes out now, I can't stop thinkin' about what transpired tonight; about what it all means and whether I should confront her or not. All these months she's been distant, unreachable; she's come and gone like the seasons...sometimes makin' me burn, others, freezin' me up. I don't know how I got so tangled in my thoughts of her, but I am – they strangle me. Each time I ever consider taking her hand I'm reminded of how hard it is to hold them when they're locked into fists. But still...there are these moments that pass between us that I swear she's reachin' out to me, beggin' me to remember all those times we sat by the fire together, seeking a comfort that the heat alone couldn't provide. They're always transient, fleeting; like a dream that dissipates as soon as you notice it ain't real. They're not substantial enough to form any real impression...they're not like the memory I have of tonight.<p>

* * *

><p>I knew she wasn't impressed by my choice of venue, but none of the others complained. Frankly, I think I chose it 'cause I know those other clubs would have bothered her more...so charmless and conceited, much like the clientele. Not that the place I picked was much better, but at least the music was good. I know I might not come off as bein' one to like a dance, but when the mood's right, I can move with the best of 'em. Besides, it was my birthday; I can do whatever I want on my birthday, and that's why I hadn't been off that dance floor all night save to refill my drink or nip off to the little girls room.<p>

I was laughing and singing and _dying_...just a little bit...all because of those glacial eyes that kept finding me in the darkness, through the thickening throng thriving on misplaced touches, tellings and trust. Just a flicker of that attention was enough to distract me from Vanille's gyrating – she had to stop on more than one occasion to ask me what was wrong. I just smiled down at her troubled expression when she did this and shook my head, resuming my own rollickin' which seemed to reassure her. That was fortunate, really, 'cause I'd had a couple of drinks and didn't trust myself with any convoluted pretences.

By half one, I'd found myself alone in the crowd. Sazh had left. I knew he didn't want to be there, that it wasn't his scene, so it was real nice of him to chum us along at all. Serah and Snow were busy _not_ watching our drinks and makin' out in the booth we'd jumped on when we got in; Vanille...she was somewhere...in the bathrooms I think. Girl could never hold her liquor and I'd told her several times durin' the night to slow it down. She don't listen to me unless I'm firm with her though, and I was in too good a mood to be tellin' her off; I knew she was gonna feel awful in the morning, so I couldn't be too hard on her, right?

I was still enjoying myself anyhow, letting the music take me where it wanted. I was aware of the movements of my body slowing in pace, matching the steady rhythm of the bass beat thumping through me; I felt the vibrations of those melancholy strings thrum against my skin and soul, but the dark undertone of the music was lost to me along with my reason when I turned around and fell into eyes that for all I knew were as bottomless as they looked. I don't know how long she'd been standin' there for with that impossible look on her face; the one that was somehow demanding yet so damn indecipherable. Whatever was weighting her emotions also had her here, anchored to the spot, still and impervious in that sea of licked lips, swaying hips and sweating skin. I wasn't movin' with the current no more either; I was feelin' undulations of a different sort.

Had she been someone else, _anyone_ else, I'd have made some smart-ass comment right about that point; maybe I'd have poked fun at her apparent lack of rhythm, reminded her it was a dance floor, not a mausoleum. But because it was _her_, I couldn't find the words. I didn't want to, for whatever reason. I'd spent so long talking at her over these past months, givin' up every piece of my puzzle; I'd outstretched myself, tryin' to reach her and I'd decoded nothin' of her silence in all that time. And then she was suddenly there, starin' at me like I should know what this is all about; like I was a fool for not understanding. I felt myself frownin' a little as I thought about all this; as I turned it over in my mind. Her expression hadn't changed any; it only seemed different because of the way the shadows moved across her face. I'd gotten so used to being denied her eyes that to look into them again had me off kilter; unsteady. The force of her focus was fierce and firm; I felt it here – and wanted it _there – _did she know what she was doing to me? That I was on the verge of capsizing in this pool of vain self awareness?

I turned my back to her, suddenly self conscious of the possibility. I didn't need that reading in my expression – I have my pride. Still...there was something about the way she was holding me in her regard that stripped the bravado from my bones in such a benign and benevolent way. There was something about the malice of her mild manner that was beginning to make sense to me; although my realisation was slow, like the sway I began to put into my hips. Somehow I knew she was still standing there, ignoring all that unwanted attention around her as if she and I were the only ones enclosed in these tomblike-womblike surroundings. Light had no interest in foolish fawning and she was not one to dictate to. Yet something had brought her here, to me – something deeper than I bet she cared to remember. Something told her to remain as I refused to face her; told her to wait because I'd yield to my curiosity soon enough; because I'd glance back at her over the curve of my shoulder like I did – wordless, but inviting.

I wasn't about to question it, the way she closed that distance between us, moved that_ lithe _body in behind me; watching her in the corner of my eye, I saw the way her brows furrowed with confusion, like she was struggling to understand her own behaviour and feelings...the ones that were echoin' inside of my chest. They were doin' a good job of firing off adrenaline spikes in me, making my heart stop and start and jolt and bolt. It was with such reverence that she placed her hands on the slopes of my bare shoulders, starin' hard at the skin there that she stroked gently with the pads of her thumbs. She tilted her head to the side as she ran her hands down the length of my arms, gracing them with a softness that betrayed the deadliness I knew they were capable of. Her eyes traced their path, attentive, curious... and so adoring; at this point, I was more than aware that no one's ever made me feel this way before. Vulnerable and at the same time cherished...I wondered if she could feel the shiver in my body underneath her touch as she captured my hands and linked our fingers; if she'd detect the hitch in my breathing as she pressed her body into mine, leaning over my shoulder to watch our forms moving together in the dark.

I know she could tell how delighted I was when she moved her hands to my hips, 'cause I couldn't help fluttering my eyelids closed and rollin' back my head into that crook in her neck. She was holding me there so firmly – protective, _possessive_...I was only vaguely aware of that edgy, guttural voice on the track, singing so bitterly and beautifully things that seemed made to be said for us.

_Burn your empty rain down on me,_

_Whisper your death beat so softly,_

_We bend our knees at the altar of my ego..._

Every so often, I'd feel her movements mimic the music: just as that plectrum dug mercilessly into those guitar strings, I'd feel her grind her hips into mine so _grudging_ and _intrusive_. I had no idea what had gotten into her – I didn't care – I'd been waiting to be like _this_ with her for so long...

_Too _long; a lifetime.

_You drained my heart and made a spade..._

_But there's still traces of me in your veins..._

I stopped believin' in these other people and I denied their starving eyes. All that existed for me were those hands now darin' to glide under the falls of silk and across my bare stomach, causing it to shudder and summersault with each fresh caress. I felt her face flush against mine what with the friction of skin on skin; I couldn't help but reach behind myself, raking my fingers through her gorgeous, impossible hair and seeking purchase to bring those lips of hers closer to my skin. Those parted lips were breathing hot and steady at my ear, makin' me think such _thoughts_; I needed a more substantial memory from that mouth – a searing reminder of this moment. When was I gonna see her again after this? A week, two weeks? A month? More? You never know with Lightning; you can't know. She strikes with precision, but only whenever she feels like it.

It's that knowledge that got me turning in her arms as I wrapped my own around her neck; that had me shuddering as she re-adjusted her hold of me around my lower back. She probably didn't know how much of a tease she was bein', resting her forehead against mine like that, her open mouth merely inches away...I don't know what it was about her whispering along to the lyrics that made my heart feel so heavy but my body so weightless...I was havin' a lot of trouble sortin' my thoughts out and thinkin' straight.

_I'm a diamond that is tired of all the faces I've acquired..._

_We must secure the shadow here..._

_The substance fades..._

She kept undulating into me; I kept falling into her. I ignored the admonition of her added aggressiveness each time the bitter chorus came. I wanted this; her passion, her anger. I wasn't going to make her stop now, not after waiting _so_ long just to get her to let the fuck go. I knew how volatile this situation was; such was the darkness emanating from her so. I simply did not care. She could use me and abuse me...oh yeah, she could make me lose...

I was so swept up in this swell of emotions, so spurred by the surge that I dared to tilt my head to the side, inviting the warmth of her lips upon mine. I could see her through eyes wide shut, the way her gaze flickered between my eyes and mouth as she leaned in...slowly blinding herself with each heartbeat in which she drew closer. Closer and closer...so why couldn't I feel her yet? Exasperation eased open my eyes, eager for explanation.

She stood before me, her hands falling away from my sides. She'd straightened herself, was military still. I was, too, in trying to read the pattern of emotions fleeting about her face. It took me a few moments to realise she wasn't lookin' at me, but _beyond_ me, over my shoulder, regarding the petite, little redhead who was weaving her way through the crowd, looking tired, lost and fed up.

"Faaaang," she grumbled, latchin' on to me and burying her head into my chest, "I wanna go home...I don't feel well." My movements were mechanical; I wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her around her shoulder, telling her that that was okay; I knew Light was watching, so I glanced at her as I did this, but quickly wished I hadn't. Gone was the intensity in her eyes, the lust in her hips and the love on her lips. I don't know where she'd disappeared to, but she wasn't quite present when she dug her keys outta her skinny jeans' pocket, generously offering us a lift home as she stared at something on the floor. Vanille was already threatening to pass out, so of course we accepted and made to follow her out of the club, wordless...conscience-stricken.

_And we said 'till we die..._

_And we said 'till we die..._

* * *

><p>And so, there you have it; here we are, stopped outside our place. Vanille's well and truly knocked out in the backseat now, so Light offers to carry her in for me. I grunt a thank you, bitterly wishin' it was <em>me<em> she was lifting into her arms, but I know enough to keep that to myself – I reckon it reads in my expression anyway.

Vanille only mumbles very softly as Light pulls her out, heaves her into her arms and carries her down the pathway to our front door. Her footfalls are soft and steady against the wet stone, and the coarse salt that was laid earlier still hasn't melted, adding a crunch to each step we take towards the house. The iciness of the winter night air cuts right through my memories of the evening; I start questionin' whether they happened at all, so normal she's actin' about everything. On the steps she turns to me, as if to make sure I'm followin' and above her the moon lends her an aura.

My god...she reminds me of gold.

When we get inside, we lay Vanille down in our room; Light looks awkward bein' in here, so we move to the living room where she goes ahead and lights the open fire we got in there. I don't say anything while she does this. I just watch her busy herself with the task, gettin' steadily more bothered knowing she's not gonna bother explaining her behaviour tonight.

Outside, the snow's started fallin' now. I bet she's gonna see that and use it as her excuse to leave, so I decide not to waste any time in gettin' to the point.

"You know, don't you?"

There's a beat of hesitation in her actions before she resumes stoking the fire that she's kneeling beside. I keep my distance, but walk around her so I can better see her face. Her skin looks flushed, but it ain't got nothin' to do with the fire and I know that. I know it and she can't tell me otherwise.

"Know what?" she asks dully, hanging the poker on its stand with a quiet clang and standing to her full height as she scuffs her hands together. I feel my irritation spike when she pretends she's got no idea what I'm talkin' about so I close the distance between us. What I got to say isn't the sort of thing I need to be shoutin' across an empty room; this void she keeps between us is nothin' short of torture to live with and I've only now begun to believe that she might be sufferin' too; that's she been playin' me with this poker face all this time.

"_Don't_ play dumb, Light; it don't suit you. You know exactly what you've been puttin' me through all these months. You know how I feel. So, I gotta ask you...what happened back there?"

She's quiet for a moment, thinking, I assume, but she keeps squeezing heartbeats from me so easily by holding me in her blank stare. "Look, it's...pretty late...and you've had a drink. I've got work tomorrow and—"

"—I want to know what happened." I cut her off before she can tell me any more bullshit about havin' to work. I've outgrown that fucking lullaby and anyway, I know she's lying.

Her expression changes; her eyes harden. This girl's really going to try side-steppin' this.

"Nothing happened." The audacity. I'd laugh bitterly at her predictability if I wasn't so pissed off.

"You were gonna kiss me. If you hadn't seen Vanille..."

There she goes, crossing her arms over her heart all defensively, scowlin' at me so fierce it's as if she thinks it's just gonna make me shrivel up and disappear, just like that. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're deluded, Fang. Maybe you should get some sleep; you know, sober up a little."

"No. _Don't_ gimme that, Lightning – you know _exactly_ what I'm talkin' about!" I know she does, she knows she does. I can see it in her perfect, practiced posture and the way she keeps her eyes hard to challenge me. Suddenly, I see it all. I can read her and she feels me skimmin' every page.

I know she's too proud to admit it, to confess that she wants me too and that she's sick of always doing the right thing – for everyone else's benefit. That's why she don't want to thaw, want me swimming or submerging myself in her. She don't want me takin' a run and jumpin' inside of her.

And she does.

"You always gotta be so damn dutiful, don't you? Everyone's gotta come first: work, Serah, _Vanille_..." The words are just tumbling out now...falling away from me. Torrential tirades, down pouring damage...but I want her fucking _soaked_. "I swear by Etro, Lightning: you are the only heartless hero I know! What about you, huh? What about what _you_ want? Don't you _got_ any wants? Don't you got any passion at all?" I'm being all dramatic with my hand gestures now – I'll probably cringe at that later on, but at the moment, I couldn't care less. I want her to see this; what spirit is.

"So let me get this straight: you're throwing a tantrum because I'm... considerate? Because I actually care about seeing my friends safe and happy?" She unfolds her arms, places a hand on the hip she shifts her weight to, probably cause she's feelin' confident she's made a good point. All the change does is incense me even more though – of course she would choose to miss my point entirely.

"And what about this friend, huh?" I ask her, gesturing to myself and steeling my heart to take a few steps closer to her. "What about me? Or don't I matter enough to you? That it? I made a bad decision and I gotta pay for it the rest of my wakin' life?" She's lookin' at me slightly wide-eyed now; as if I've genuinely surprised her with my cynical thinking. I don't care, I'm on a roll and I can't stop myself no more... "See, you and me, we ain't so different, Light, not really. We both make sacrifices, we both got pains. But at least _I_ got enough sense to know that that's not right; to know things can't stay that way. What will you do? Keep givin' and givin' and givin' away all these pieces of yourself 'till there's nothin' left? Nothin' but some stupid ideal barely flickerin' behind those cold, lifeless eyes! What kind of life is that? How can you settle...for _that?_"

My chest is heaving now and my eyes are burnin' with unshed, angry tears. She's still not said a thing but she's refusin' to look at me now.

"I think I should leave..."

"I don't think so. You ain't goin' nowhere," I assert, planting myself firmly before the door. I don't care about her right hook – I know my rage will deaden my nerves if it comes to trading blows.

"Get out of my way, Fang." I can hear that control in her voice begin to waver; I can almost taste the blood she'd spill to deny the arousal I can smell.

"Tell me you don't want me."

"What?"

"You heard. Say it." I can't help it, the way my legs are carrying me forward, stationing me right in front of her, right in harm's way. "Say it!" Even as I watch myself shove her sharply by her shoulders, I can't believe I'm doin' it. Whose eyes am I seein' this through? I'm sure my arms are movin' independently from my brain by this point. "Say it! Tell me you don't want me!" I keep shoutin' and shovin' her, my arms workin' like pistons. I'm so blind in my lust-rage I can't absorb the darkness taking shape, the eclipse in her eyes. So clouded is my judgement, I don't stop to think about consequences or repercussions; I don't think about my sister-girlfriend passed out in the next room; about this formal friendship I'm so desperate to desecrate. I think nothing and feel everything and what I feel is so fucking _alive_.

I want her to have this to. I want her to reach in and grab the gentleness I got inside; I want her to rip apart everything that excites me. So I keep pressing her; keep straining to push her over that line.

"That's _enough_, Fang!" she growls back at me, clamping her hands around my wrists and shakin' me like some kind of ragdoll; that doesn't stop me though: I struggle. "I _said_ that's enough!" she shouts but it's short and clipped. I lunge forward, snarling and deranged and ravenous and desperate. I taste her words, their flavour; right before I taste _her_. Her and all her pent up devotion...it's bruised like her lips...ribbons of rapture that I'm just unravelling and unravelling. I want to strip the secrets and sadness from her; want heart naked heartbeat pounding against mine.

I press into her; I project that explosion of memories behind my eyes through the sheer force of my kiss; the burst of recalled laughter and secret smiles and lustful glances and unrealised fantasies. I give it all to her, right there, 'cause she's just gotta know. She has to feel something; she has to feel _this_.

And she does..._now_ she feels it. Now that she's got her hands on me again, changing her footing so she can slam me into the wall behind us. She pins me here, crushes me with the force of her frustration that's been building these past months without having me like _this. _She mirrors my own depraved desperation as she wrestles my thighs apart with her knee; presses into me so _aggressively_ that I'm sure she doesn't mean it to feel _so _fucking _good_. She's still got a hold on my wrists, captured in her vice-like grip against the wall above my head – I can already feel the rouge of my skin there and know them marks she's leavin' will be hard to explain away but none of that matters when I feel her teeth rake against my skin, sinkin' into my flesh with just enough pressure that makes me question whether it's pain or pleasure I get from the sensation. I decide it doesn't matter; I bare my neck for her, let her taste the way she's got my pulse racin', my skin weepin'...

...and when she does I can't control the sounds I make, so sudden and sharp and submissive and soft; I can't help the way I hitch her name with such honest _want_ that's both pure and at the same time _perverted_. As she brings her eyes level with mine, I find our understanding once more. I never want to get out of here; I don't want her to say a thing.

But she does...she speaks things I don't wanna hear right now.

"I have to leave." She's breathing hard but she tries so much to sound firm and unruffled.

"I want you to stay." I mean it, as well.

She stares right at me, the intensity of her regard settin' my mind ablaze with all I know she wants to do to me. When she finally speaks, she issues a warning; one she feels I deserve to know. "If I don't leave now...I won't stop."

I shiver just _thinking_ about that potential; I'm so fuckin' thrilled that I'm able to tell her this that I can't keep the control in my voice no longer; I open my mouth to deliver my response confidently, but my words are meek and escape in a hasty whisper. "I don't want you to."

It hangs between us for a moment, between our two thundering heartbeats; it palpitates against her passions; all rapture and reverence and rescinded grace. It's what summons this surging spirit; the one that seizes her seizing me. It possesses her; mind, body, heart.

"Don't say that I didn't warn you..." is the last thing she says before she gives into it; diminishes and dissolves. I watch old pretences readily recede and feel the rush of a rapture rapid burst through my remaining defences as her lips crush against mine, the ferocity of her actions strong enough to flush out any reason I still got left in my head.

And I fight the flow, I do – to frustrate her and her desires; she's gotta use her control and work at getting my legs wrapped around her like this; so when I wake in the morning, I'll have the sting of these memories to remind me they're real.

I don't want her holding back nothin' anymore; not anger or fear or her sick, sick fascinations. I want to feel them all, over and over and over again; as real as the bruises I feel forming on my thighs...

...I know that she's winning with each breath I use to pant her name. I know that come morning, she's not gonna want to talk about it; but this who she is, this is who I've fallen for.

All that she does is quicksilver.

My god..._my god_...I wish I didn't like this.


End file.
